The print version of the 2023 literary magazine is now available for purchase!
Contact Ms. Beckhusen at amy.beckhusen@wjccschools.org or visit Room 212 to buy a copy.
JHS ASCENT LITERARY MAGAZINE









Super Fun Pool Party
Madelyn Lee
Pool parties are supposed to be fun. Exploring a new place is supposed to be fun. At the time I had no idea why I was feeling so awful. Why do I feel so unhuman? How is everyone else in my family adapting? For two weeks straight I hibernated in my room, drawing wildly to distract myself from the onslaught of thoughts streaming from my brain. One morning, my mom knocked on my door.
“Yeah?” I asked.
“There’s a neighborhood get-together at the pool later,” she says, holding the door open with one hand. “You want to go with dad and I?”
“Sure,” I replied reluctantly.
After my mom closed my door and left, I dug in my dresser and pulled out a one-piece bathing suit, seafoam green with flowing pink flowers. I pull on some workout shorts and slip some flip flops on and head into the garage. My parents and I pile into the car and make the short drive to the pool. Any summer day here qualifies as a pool day. Anything to escape the oppressive heat. The pool area was packed with neighbors from every street. Neighbors from up the hill, down the long road, or on the ridge. Sandwiches, chips, and sodas were exchanged and consumed. The pool became a booming economy, a busy bazaar in the middle of a sweltering environment. All the kids there were in the pool. Screaming, roughhousing, and running were tolerated for some reason. I didn’t recall seeing a lifeguard. It was a suburban hell.
My neighbor was in the pool. Her hands held a foam football, and her eyes twinkled with mischief. She hurls the football at a younger boy about five yards away from her. The ball lands with a smack and a splash. Laughter erupts but my heart sinks. The group before me reminded me so much of my friends. Just a month ago I said goodbye to them forever.
My mom nudges me towards the pool. “Just go talk to her.”
My heart is in my throat. I can barely breathe. Nonetheless, I get into the pool. The water seemed colder than it should have been. I wade to where my neighbor stood. Her name was Mary. She knew everyone around her. She knew the area and where the best Chinese restaurant was. She had the knowledge and acceptance I craved. I went up to her.
“Hi,” I murmured. Mary looked over at me. “Um, can I play with you guys?” I sounded like a toddler, not a thirteen-year-old who can hold her own in a conversation. “I don’t know anyone here.”
“Okay,” she replies plainly. Mary’s eyes dart to my other neighbor, Jane. What were they thinking? Did they hate me? Are they going to scold me?
What happened was worse, at least for me. I was handed the ball. I tossed it to a young boy across from me. He tossed it to Mary. Mary tossed it to Jane. The ball never came back to me. I watched. I waited. I outstretched my hands. I used my voice. “Over here!” I spoke. I wasn’t laughed at or made fun of, but I felt like a circus clown who got pied in the face. I held my tears in and climbed out of the pool without saying another word.
I didn’t eat. I didn’t socialize. I walked right out of the gates and all the way home. My thighs chafed together and I began sweating like a pig.